


Broken

by Flyontheceiling



Category: Mitch grassi - Fandom, Pentatonix, Scott Hoying - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: Alcohol, Angst (lots and lots), Anxiety, Break Up, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyontheceiling/pseuds/Flyontheceiling
Summary: Scott and Mark’s relationship comes to an end.
Relationships: Scott Hoying/Mark Manio, Scott Hoying/Mitch Grassi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not much I can say about this one, apart from sorry again! I really don’t know where it comes from. If you don’t want to see Scott hurt, I’d leave now!

Scott just stared at the door. He stared for so long he forgot to blink; but he didn’t need to- the tears filling his eyes were moistening them more than he wanted, blurring his vision so much that the door shimmered as if it led to another dimension. 

He was waiting for it to open again and a contrite Mark be standing there with a sheepish expression on his face. He was then going to explain to Scott’s satisfaction just why he had said he was leaving, why he had packed all his stuff while Scott had been out, and why he had just walked out that door an hour and a half ago.

He was coming back, Scott had decided, he was definitely coming back- it was just a matter of when. So, he would wait so he was here when he did. Because anything else other than that scenario would be unthinkable.

As he waited he tried to understand just what had happened; what he had done that was so bad it had caused Mark to want to end their four year relationship. 

It could happen to anyone, right? Probably happened all the time in the throes of passion. It didn’t mean anything- not really- it was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing bad enough to leave, because it hadn’t happened before in the whole time they’d been together until recently, and Scott had been both oblivious to it happening and suitably apologetic when he found out.

It didn’t mean he loved Mark any less, did it? So why did Mark think it did? 

Scott had tried to put himself in Mark’s position. Tried to think how he would feel if their positions had been reversed. He’d have been pissed off for sure, but certainly wouldn’t have walked out like Mark had done. Would he?

He lifted his hands to his face as the tears eventually spilled over to run down his cheeks and wiped them away. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, recalling the yelling and pleading that had echoed around the house earlier, scaring the life out of Bubba who now lay at his side after emerging nervously from the bedroom a few minutes ago. 

Scott put out a hand to finally acknowledge the dog, who inched closer, sensing his despair. ‘I’ve really fucked up this time, bud,’ he explained softly. ‘But he’ll be back soon.’ He stroked the shaggy coat rhythmically, as the stress and misery began to catch up and sleep called him. Unwilling to leave sight of the door, he shuffled onto the sofa beside Bubba and pulled a throw over both of them. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

Mark didn’t return the next day- or the day after. 

It was on the third day that Scott saw his Twitter post, and couldn’t believe he could put something like that out for the whole world to see. He stared at the screen in horror, the shame burning on his face.

‘When your bf shouts his ex’s name numerous times during sex, and is now ex himself.’

There it was. There was the goddamn reason floating around in the ether for posterity. For everyone to see and laugh at.

Scott gritted his teeth as he ran through the thread. All sympathetic and horror-struck comments. Invitations for dates, drinks and a shoulder to cry on. There were a lot of re-tweets too, and he just wanted to disappear.

It was then that Scott knew it was over, and it was also then that the texts and phone calls started. He read the texts and ignored the calls. Most were from his own friends; ‘better off without him’, ‘never liked him’, ‘how could he do that?’. Then some from mutual friends; ‘so sorry,’ ‘thought you two were forever,’ ‘it will all work out.’ But then there were Mark’s friends; ‘you’re an asshole,’ ‘what were you thinking?’ ‘How could you treat him like that?’ Then the more worrying ones; ‘You better watch over your shoulder,’ ‘I hope I meet you in a dark ally,’ ‘you’re dead, Hoying.’

Scott stopped reading his texts after the first few bad ones. 

The house had seemed empty when Mark had been away for a few days in the past, but never as empty as it felt now. It felt empty, but also oppressive, too full of memories. Scott couldn’t sleep in their bed and had taken to the guest room instead where he managed to sleep on occasions. Eating was a problem- he had no appetite and felt nauseous every time he tried. Drinking however, was far too easy. The empty bottles standing beside the overflowing trash bin attested to that. The amount of alcohol he had consumed over the past three days made his eyes water. Mostly he had emptied them while watching a sad movie or lying on the couch singing an equally sad song or composing an angry one. He hadn’t showered or shaved since Mark left. 

Bubba had been no further than the back yard, but despite his guilt, Scott wasn’t yet prepared to face the outside. He offloaded a lot onto his companion, who just looked at him sympathetically and took all the shit he spouted. 

It was day four when there was a knock at the door. Scott immediately panicked. Had one of the crazies found him? Could it be Mark? What the hell was he going to say if it was? He glanced quickly at the mess around him, then shrugged. Who cared? 

He peered through the peep hole and jumped back when one single brown eye peered back at him. ‘Shit!’ He’d recognise that eye anywhere. He flattened himself against the door, his heart in his mouth. Maybe, despite being eye to eye, he hadn’t been seen?

‘You’re gonna let me in, Hoying? Or do I just shout at you through the door?’

Scott was in full panic mode. Why the hell couldn’t it have one of the crazies? He considered fleeing to the bedroom and hiding under the covers, to the basement maybe? 

‘I’ve got plenty of time.’

Dammit all to hell. He took a deep, steadying breath, and started pulling back bolts. Finally, he opened the door a crack and peered out. 

Mitch stood there with his eyebrows raised, draped in a long, black, flowing coat, as perfectly groomed and presented as Scott was the opposite. ‘Well?’

Scott opened the door reluctantly, and Mitch breezed in on a cloud of something light and floral. He wrinkled his nose as he took in the smell and mess, but waited while Scott totally ignored him and opened yet another bottle of wine. His last. After this he was either going to have to go out or hit the spirits. The latter was looking more preferable at the moment.

Mitch took in the disaster area that was Scott in one glance. He was unwashed and unkempt, his usually neatly coiffed hair literally sticking out in all directions, so stiff that even the hand Scott ran through it did absolutely nothing. He was growing hair where there had never been hair before, and his clothes were stained and creased. 

Scott had never been as obsessive as Mitch over his appearance, but this was unprecedented- and worrying.

‘What do you want?’ 

Mitch shrugged. ‘Apparently I’m a delegation.’ He perched on the arm of the couch, stroking Bubba’s head. ‘You missed a meeting and weren’t answering your phone. We were worried.’ 

Scott grunted. He had no idea what meeting Mitch was talking about, but then, he hadn’t exactly been thinking about work. ‘Well, now you’ve seen me, you can report back that there’s nothing to be worried about, can’t you?’ He started making inroads into the wine.

‘You’re kidding me, right?’ Mitch’s tone was light and non-judgemental, but Scott was already annoyed.

‘Why you?’ He snapped. ‘Why not Kirstie, or Kevin, or Matt?’ He took another swig and seating himself at the piano, started turning the pages of some sheet music, his back well and truly directed to Mitch.

Mitch hadn’t been the first to see Mark’s tweet. It had been Kirstie who had called him only a few minutes after it had been posted, almost in tears. 

Mitch had listened patiently, but hissed when she had suggested it was his name Mark had mentioned. ‘Kirstie, you don’t know that! You can’t just assume...’

‘Read the thread Mitch. Most of the comments surmise it was you, and Mark hasn’t jumped in to deny it! He would, wouldn’t he? If it had been wrong? He’s got problems with Scott- no-one else.’

Mitch wasn’t so sure. ‘So, let’s say it was. What can I do about it?’ 

‘You’re his friend, Mitch...’

‘...Used to be’, Mitch interjected, and Kirstie tutted.

‘Semantics. You know you would be the first there if he needed you.’ Her voice was semi-scolding, and Mitch tutted right back at her.

‘Okay, okay! I’ll take the hit, but I still don’t know what I can do about it. I can’t interfere in that side of his life. Let’s say you’re right- I’m going to be the last person he wants to speak to, aren’t I? ‘

‘He was there for you after Beau, wasn’t he?’ That stung. More so because the little vixen was right, and Mitch was unusually lost for words. Oh my god, he thought, l’m going to have to go over there. He’d seen Scott after break-ups before, and it wasn’t pretty. Scott always wore his heart on his sleeve.

‘Alright, alright!’ He acquiesced eventually, after Kirstie started on again.

‘You’ll go?’ She asked.

‘I’ll go.’ Defeated.

‘Yey! Let me know what happens.’

So here he was. Mitch said nothing in answer to Scott’s question, just waited and watched, and was rewarded by a surreptitious glance over Scott’s shoulder. He returned it with a single raised eyebrow.

Scott knew why it was Mitch who had been volunteered. Damn him, he had put two and two together and come up with four. Not exactly difficult. Scott could feel his eyes on him through the back of his skull. How long was he just going to sit there saying nothing? 

Not long as it turned out. Mitch stood with a sigh and took off his coat, draping it carefully over the sofa back. What did he think he was he doing? It didn’t look like he was going to get rid of him any time soon then. He then strolled over to the piano, Scott swallowed more wine to distract himself, aware of Mitch’s presence behind him.

Drastic situations call for drastic measures, Mitch decided. ‘Put it down.’ 

Scott nearly choked. Who the hell did he think he was? 

Mitch apparently thought he was in charge. His arm snaked around to deftly remove the wine bottle from Scott’s hand and put it on top of the piano. Then, suddenly, both his arms were around Scott’s chest in an intense hug, his fingers interlaced and his head bent down in the crook of his neck. 

Scott went rigid. The last thing he wanted was pity. He tried to stand up but Mitch had other ideas, his strength surprising. The more Scott struggled, the tighter Mitch’s grip got, forcing him back down and Scott felt tears of frustration and anger well up in his eyes. Mitch was making him feel weak, in more than one way. 

‘Enough!’ Scott insisted.

‘It’s okay.’ Mitch whispered back.He was determined he was not going to let go until Scott had let out all the emotion that was obviously eating him up. 

No, no it wasn’t okay. There was nothing about this that was okay. Not okay at all. The anger spilled out, along with the tears, and Scott found himself playing dirty to get free, pulling at Mitch’s hair and when Mitch still didn’t move, scrabbling at his fingers to try and loosen them, a low moan starting in his throat which began to rise to a scream, and still Mitch held on. Unable to stand, Scott desperately just wanted to get away. He didn’t want to feel the way Mitch was making him feel- out of control. 

Almost frantic, he threw himself sideways from the bench to the floor, Mitch came with him and wrapped his legs around him as he lay crying and screaming, pounding his fist into the carpet. The floodgates had opened, and the anguish was uncontrollable. Scott felt as if his heart was being torn out of his body, unable to breath. The pain that he had dulled with alcohol, that he should have dealt with bit by bit, hit him all at once.

Mitch held on like a limpet while Scott cried and thrashed, his own face firmly wedged into Scott’s neck, wet with tears, and he didn’t let up until the tormented screams and cries had lessened to wracking, sorrowful sobs. 

Mitch waited for what seemed like forever, until the sobs had dissipated into the occasional hiccup and Scott’s body relaxed a little, the whole time wrapped around him like a comfort blanket. 

When he was sure Scott was as still as he was going to be, he slowly extricated himself and scooted back a little to give him space. Scott rolled onto his back so he could stare angrily at Mitch, his eyes red and swollen now, adding to the total picture of misery. Mitch simply stared back.

Scott eventually pulled himself into a sitting position with his back pressed against the piano, his knees tucked under his chin and his angry glare changing to one of resignation.  
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured when he could finally manage words again.. ‘Sorry you had to see that.’ 

Mitch smiled softly and shrugged. ‘You needed it. Needed to get it out. I’ve been there, remember?’ His voice wavered, shocked a little by what had just happened and recalling the time he had been in Scott’s position and just how the pain had eaten at him. ‘ Come on, get up. You need coffee...and so do I.’ He rubbed at the back of his hand where Scott had left marks in his skin. ‘Jesus, Scott!’  
Scott flapped a hand by way of apology, along with a murmured ‘sorry.’

A few minutes later they sat with their mugs on the couch, the caffeine working it’s magic, and Mitch felt brave enough to broach the subject that had been bothering him.  
‘You ready to explain what exactly happened yet? Why you suddenly, after all these years, seemed to forget your boyfriend’s name?’ He tried to keep his tone light. Scott reached for a bottle of Tylenol and pulling out the cotton wool stopper, discarded it onto the table and swallowed two with a mouthful of coffee.

He shook his head. ‘Would you believe me if I told you I had absolutely no idea?’ He shifted uneasily. ‘I’ve thought about it every time it happened, and if I couldn’t explain to Mark, then I can’t explain to you.’ He gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘Of course, Mark thought you and I were...you know, behind his back.’

Mitch felt himself blush, not only because Scott had just confirmed Kirstie’s fears, but as he remembered the times ‘you know’ had actually happened in the earlier stages of Scott and Mark’s relationship. To be fair, neither Mitch nor Scott had a brilliant track record of monogamy, preferring to play the field, but as their relationships had become more serious, then so had they. Mitch wondered if it was weird that he should feel so indignant about Mark’s assumptions, when they were justified- just not at the right time. He chewed on his lip as he tried to get his head around it.

Scott seemed to read his mind. ‘Mark knew about us, Mitch. I came clean a long time ago.’

Mitch swallowed hard. He did? Why didn’t he know that? ‘Okay. I can understand you doing that.’ 

‘I loved him, you know?’ Scott’s voice was tremulous and Mitch instinctively put a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.  
‘I thought we were forever, but when I saw that post on Twitter...I can never forgive him for that.’ He covered Mitch’s hand with his own, and raised his head. For an instant that might have been way too long, their eyes met and held, the connection way too easy and comfortable, before they both quickly looked away, almost as one.

Mitch snatched his hand back. Dear God, no. No. Could they not even look at each other now?  
  
He stood, awkwardly making a show of picking invisible dog hairs from his pants. ‘I think social media will be the death if us,’ he said, dragging his coat from the back of the sofa. ‘Can’t live with it, can’t live without it, huh?’

Scott stood, feeling just as awkward, and busied himself taking their empty coffee mugs back to the kitchen, but he could feel Mitch’s puzzled eyes on his back. When he came out, Mitch simply nodded and smiled tightly.

‘You good?’

Scott returned his smile. ‘Better now- thanks to you. Guess I’ll just have to spend some time figuring this all out.’

‘Don’t try too hard, honey. It’ll come to you when your brain isn’t soaked in alcohol. Keep off that stuff, okay?’ He turned and made his way to the door, then hesitated. ‘Scott?’ He stopped and turned sharply, only to find Scott hadn’t anticipated his move, and bumped straight into him. There was a flurry of embarrassing apologies and chuckles, then silence as they stood facing each other, far too close.

Suddenly Mitch was enfolded in Scott’s arms. A hug, right? Nothing wrong with that between two old friends, Mitch thought, but as his head lifted from Scott’s chest, he made the mistake of looking up into his eyes, and this time there was no looking away, and neither of them broke the hold. 

Mitch closed his eyes as their lips met, trembling as Scott’s hand on the back of his head brought him in even closer and tighter, and he yielded with a sigh. The familiarity of Scott’s lips, soft and velvety, against his own as addictive as a drug. A drug he had withdrawn from a long time ago.

Scott knew his emotions were running riot at the minute, knew he was desperate for human contact, knew Mitch would be the first to give it if asked, and he also knew it was the wrong time. He just couldn’t stop himself. 

Mitch was actually shaking in his arms as Scott broke the kiss to drag his mouth up his cheek and temple to gently place a chaste one in the centre of his forehead.

‘Míssed my Mitchy,’ he murmured, allowing his hands to drop to Mitch’s shoulders, and moved him slightly back to look into his face. There was an expression of confusion there, and this time Mitch did look away, but it took a super-human effort.

‘Scott-I can’t.’ The whisper was barely audible. 

There you go, Scott. Rejected again. Have another kick in the balls, because you obviously aren’t hurting enough.  
‘Sure you can’t’, he said, now looking anywhere but at Mitch. He couldn’t help an acidic laugh. ‘Why the hell would you?’ He moved back into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and as he gulped it down, heard the soft click of the door closing. He didn’t turn around-no need to. He hung onto the sides of the bench and cried, feeling as sorry for himself as he ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

Mitch had to get out. He knew if he stayed then things were going to get complicated. Scott was as fragile as he’d ever seen him and he refused to take advantage of that. His love and respect for him was far too important to put either of them in that position while emotions were running so high. 

Reaching the sanctity of his home and bedroom, Mitch found himself walking around in circles while trying to get his thoughts in order. It didn’t work. He eventually took a shower and tried to let the hot water wash away his doubts and confusion, but as he threw on sweats, he realized that it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that. 

When Kirstie phoned for an update, he wasn’t ready. For a minute or two he considered declining the call, but Kirstie was intuitive and he wouldn’t put it past her to turn up at his door. 

‘How did it go, Babe?’ She was sitting on the floor with Olaf occasionally popping into the picture. Her hair looked freshly washed and wet, and she was balancing the phone while tying it back.

Mitch smiled at the pure normality. Oh god, he so needed normal. ‘Not so good. He’s a wreck.’ The smile slid away as Mitch recalled the state he had found Scott in.

Kirstie nodded understandingly. ‘He’s bound to be, especially when Mark’s made it so public. I’m glad you went over though. He’ll have been pleased to see you.’ It was then that Mitch realized that Kirstie had no idea just how bad Scott was, and maybe that was for the better. There was no point in worrying her. 

They exchanged a few more unrelated bits of information, before Mitch disconnected the call with a promise of keeping Kirstie updated and threw himself back on the bed in frustration. 

He didn’t know where he wanted to be. Didn’t want to stay in, didn’t want to go out, wanted company but wanted to be alone, wanted quietude, but wanted music. It was annoying, and he blamed Scott. Things had been just fine until he had screwed things up with Mark. 

Scott meanwhile, had pulled himself together enough to take a shower, shave and change his clothes. The house could wait. He took Bubba out for a long, solitary walk, trying to clear his mind; and it helped, it really did. He found himself wondering idly what Mark was doing right now, but now there was no despair there at the thought of him. When his thoughts shifted to Mitch however, there was a sadness that threatened to drag him back down again.

He’d been an idiot. (Again).

He’d just assumed. (Wrongly).

He’d been rejected. (Deservedly).

Scott sighed. It seemed he couldn’t do anything right these days. He was on his own and he just better get used to it. He had never been on his own before.

Mitch heard nothing more from either Scott or Kirstie. He did text Scott the following day asking how he was and received a curt, ‘fine thanks,’ back. After that Mitch stopped thinking about him again and got on with his life, and that lasted all of another whole day.

They had a video shoot scheduled at a small studio for their upcoming new album, and Mitch breezed in bang on time for a change, only to find his bandmates, minus Scott, in a huddle on two facing couches in the green room with Ben.

Normally by now, at least one or two of them would be in make-up or costume getting ready, there would be laughter and a generalised buzz amongst them; instead they were sipping mugs of coffee and their voices were a low hum.

Mitch sensed the atmosphere immediately, and cautiously tested it with a light ‘Hey.’

‘Mitch,’ Ben replied, but there were only nods of greeting from the others. Mitch was immediately uncomfortable and headed for the coffee, aware of the silence that had fallen behind him.

‘Alright,’ he said eventually, biting the bullet, ‘What’s up?’ He sipped his coffee, leaning in what he hoped looked like a casual way against the table.

No-one other than Kirstie was looking at him, and Mitch raised his eyebrows at her, questioningly.

‘Come and sit down, Mitch,’ she said, patting the space beside her.

Mitch ignored her. ‘Where’s Scott?’

‘That’s what we wanted to talk to you about.’

Don’t panic. 

Kirstie saw Mitch’s eyes widen and his body stiffen, the color leave his face. She jumped to her feet, took the coffee from his hand and grabbed both of them in her own.

‘Come with me.’

Mitch found himself out in the corridor, fighting back horrific thoughts. ‘Calm down,’ Kirstie insisted. ‘Scott had made arrangements with Matt to pick him up this morning...’ She opened the door of the room next to the green room- a small office with a long couch against the wall. On the couch was Scott, laid there, seemingly asleep. ‘He was so drunk it took three of us to get him out of the car. Heaven knows how Matt managed to get him in there.’ 

Mitch peered down at his friend. ‘He should have called me.’ His voice was flat. ‘Why bring him here for everyone to see him like this?’ He reached out a hand to touch Scott’s face.

‘Matt didn’t know what to do, babe. He nearly called an ambulance. Then he thought he would be better with his friends around him.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I didn’t think he was this bad. I thought he was getting over it.’

‘He was-I think he was anyway, until...’ He stopped. What had happened was between Scott and himself and it was no-one else’s business. Kirstie didn’t push it. Mitch folded Scott’s arm across his chest to make room and sat down beside him. ‘Did Matt notice what he’d been drinking?’

‘Spirits- whisky I think he said. Poor baby. Anyway, I’m heading over to his house to pick Bubba up for a while. Obviously the video shoot’s off. What are you going to do?’

Mitch snorted. ‘Well, I thought I’d head over to Austin’s for a while, maybe start painting the guest bedroom, have a few drinks...’ He jumped to his feet. ‘What did you think I was going to do? Just leave him here like this?’ He was horrified at the tears that sprang to his eyes, spilling over and coursing down his face. Kirstie was equally horrified, coming over to hug him tightly.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she moaned. ‘Of course you want to stay with him. I don’t know what’s going on between you two,’ she pulled back, sniffing back her own tears now, ‘but I know if anyone can see him through this, it’ll be you.’

She pulled a packet of tissues from her purse and handed one to Mitch. ‘Here.’

Mitch dabbed at his eyes and offered Kirstie a wan smile. ‘I feel responsible for this you know. If it hadn’t been for me, none of this would have happened.’

Kirstie cocked her head to the side, her nose screwed up. ‘Well that’s nonsense. You can’t worry about every relationship you have in case something weird happens in the future! No-one would ever dare have one!’ She chuckled drily. ‘ I take it you and Scott weren’t- you know- while he was with Mark?’ 

There it was again- ‘you know’. 

‘Having sex you mean?’ Mitch grinned, ‘ None of your damned business, Maldonado.’ He touched a finger to her nose, and she shrugged. ‘But not when you think.’

‘Can’t blame a girl for wanting to know’. She grinned, happy to see Mitch’s sass returning. ‘Look Mitch, I’ve got to go and get Bubba, but I’ll call back in here later on. Do you want me to bring anything from Scott’s?’

Mitch thought. How long were they going to be here? ‘A change of clothes for him maybe?’ 

Kirstie nodded. ‘I don’t think they’ll throw you out.’

Mitch hadn’t thought about that. Hopefully Scott would have recovered long before he had to worry about it. Kirstie kissed him on the cheek, then gave one to Scott’s forehead before leaving.

Mitch sighed. God, he needed that coffee Kirstie had taken from him! He wandered back into the green room where Matt and Kevin were collecting their stuff ready to leave. He smiled and helped himself to another coffee, and took a seat on the couch.

‘Still out of it?’ Kevin asked.

‘Well and truly,’ Mitch nodded. ‘He’s going to be like a bear with a sore head when he wakes up. Do either of you have any painkillers?’ 

‘Sure,’ Matt said, ‘I grabbed some from Scott’s before we left- thought he might need them.’

Mitch took the bottle gratefully, but as he peered at it, something began nagging at him. There were four tablets in the bottle. ‘Wait!’ He demanded as the two of them made for the door. His mind was grabbing at a memory- a flashback to Scott opening a full bottle only the day before yesterday. He jumped to his feet, panic on his face and in his voice. ‘Matt-was this bottle on the coffee table?’

Matt look confused at Mitch’s reaction. ‘Yeah-why?’

Mitch began to do rapid calculations in his head. There were twenty -four tablets in a bottle. That left twenty-two after Scott had taken the two he had witnessed. Even if he’d taken eight a day, which Mitch doubted he would, knowing he only took them when he really needed them...

‘Too many, too many!’

Kevin caught on. ‘How many were in the bottle?’ He was already running into the next room, Matt and Mitch right behind him.

‘It was full! Kevin- it was full! He only took out two while I was there!’ 

Kevin was already on his phone, while Matt began shaking Scott and shouting his name. Mitch simply stood back, both hands covering his face, staring, and forgetting to breathe. There was no response from Scott. 

It seemed like hours before the ambulance turned up. Matt and Kevin seemed to work together like one machine, calm and collected despite the tension on their faces, while Mitch curled into a ball in the corner of the room, peering at the scene through his fingers. The full on anxiety attack promised for two days had finally arrived.

The next thing Mitch could recall was being bundled into Matt’s car, totally unaware of how he had got out of the building. Gradually, the world began to come back into focus. 

‘Hi,’ Kevin said from beside him. ‘Feeling better?’

Mitch put a hand to his head where he had suddenly gained a pounding headache. ‘What happened?’ he groaned.

Kevin grinned. ‘Valium happened. Courtesy of the paramedics.’ He glanced sideways at Mitch. ‘Your backside might be sore.’

‘What?’

Kevin grinned again. ‘Injection.’ He mimed a plunger. ‘What did you think I meant?’

Mitch ignored him. His sense of humor had deserted him.  
‘Where are we going?’

‘Hospital. To make sure Scott’s okay.’

‘Uh-oh yeah.’ 

‘Kirstie’s going to meet us there.’

————————— 

They hadn’t been allowed to see Scott. His family were on their way from Texas, and they would be the only ones allowed to see him for now. However, the news appeared to be good, thanks to their timely intervention. 

Kirstie had been devastated, blaming herself just as much as Mitch had done. She had never even considered just how low Scott’s mood had gone, and Mitch found himself usefully employed giving cuddles and reassurance until Ben had arrived and taken over.

They had remained at the hospital until they had heard Scott was awake, then Matt had driven Mitch and Kevin back to the studio to pick up their cars. 

‘Thanks Matt,’ Mitch said as he slid out of the back seat. It was dark now, and he peered around the lot to locate his car.

‘Mitch,’ Kevin called as he strode towards it. He turned.  
‘You know you probably saved his life, don’t you? If you hadn’t remembered about the pills things might have been a lot different. We just thought he was drunk.’

Mitch raised a hand in acknowledgment, and as Matt’s car pulled out if the lot, he just stood, finally alone, resting an arm against the car door and cried. The day’s events had caught up.

Kevin watched Mitch head towards his car and blew out a long sigh. What a day! He was only grateful that things had turned out the way they had. It could have been so much worse. 

Scott and Mitch would be the death of him he was sure. There was always some drama, had been since the beginning, and it was nearly always focused around those two. It had been a while since the last one though, he had to admit, and none had been quite as bad as this.

He couldn’t help but feel bad for Mitch at the minute. He caught a glimpse of him as they pulled out onto the road, leaning against his car with his head against his forearm, and could tell from the shuddering of his shoulders that he was crying. 

Kevin felt an overwhelming sadness, but knew he was powerless to help here. He said nothing to Matt, but Kevin knew the reason for all this. Kevin was a people watcher, and a bit of an amateur psychologist. Fact was, he had realized a long time ago, Scott and Mitch were a couple- even when they weren’t together. 

They were joined by something other than distance or time. They were soulmates, forever; but neither of them could see it. All the drama, all the making believe they didn’t care and all the pent up emotion that everyone around them could see, would all just go away if they just gave in. However, they were both as stubborn as mules, both convinced this wasn’t the case. Either that or they were both terrified of giving in; and so the circle of relationships and break-ups would continue. Kevin just hoped for the sake of their mental health that it wouldn’t go on much longer.

———————— 

Scott was released from the hospital four days later when it was certain he had suffered no long-lasting effects from the overdose. His parents both stayed on for another two days, and gave Kirstie regular updates on his condition. He was going to be getting some professional help it appeared, and when Mitch found out, he breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that they hadn’t spoken to him was not lost on Mitch- he knew it was Scott’s decision. Sure, he was hurt, but left well alone. The time would come. It always did.


End file.
